


You Walked in and My Heart Went

by thelittlestdoc



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Holding Hands, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6009301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestdoc/pseuds/thelittlestdoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the week before Valentine’s Day and Finn is newly single. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Walked in and My Heart Went

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Lin-Manuel Miranda's Hamilton, because ['Helpless' is totally a Finn/Poe song](http://jedipilotstorm.tumblr.com/post/136645429116/what-do-you-mean-finn-doesnt-hear-this-song).

It’s the week before Valentine’s Day and Finn is newly single. Again.

“I never liked him,” Rey says. She’s peeling the label from her bottle of cider, a neat pile of curling paper strips slowly growing on the scarred oak of the bartop. “He didn’t appreciate your natural awesomeness and he used so much product in his hair it wouldn’t budge in a sandstorm.”

“You’re using the past tense.” Finn narrows his eyes at Rey, who maintains a carefully guileless expression. “It sort of makes me worry you’re planning to put a hit out on him. Or that you’re planning to take care of him, yourself. I’m sure you could probably get away with it,” that, terrifyingly enough, earns him a sunshiney smile, “but please don’t murder my evil ex-boyfriend just because he dumped me. He no longer gets to bask in our presence. That should be punishment enough.”

Rey chooses not to acknowledge anything Finn’s just said, barreling on with her previous train of thought, which doesn’t actually make him any less nervous. “Ben isn’t allowed to set you up, anymore,” she says, peeling the final strip of label from her bottle with a sharp grin. “I love him to bits, but he’s a piss-poor matchmaker. His friends circle is mostly relatives. We’re delightful, but pretty much all taken.”

“Very true.” Finn manages a weak smile and sips at his Rum and Coke. “And I’m deliriously happy for you, of course.”

“Of course.” Rey’s smile goes soft around the edges, the way it always does when she’s thinking of Jess. “But, anyway. No more Ben set-ups. All of his old school mates are pricks.”

“Excepting Phasma, of course.”

“Always accepting Phasma,” Rey allows. “What kind of a stupid name is ‘Hux,’ anyway?” Rey’s face is doing the unhappy pinching thing that makes Finn worry that she’ll develop premature forehead wrinkles. He’d warned her about it, just the once. The resultant bruises were truly spectacular. Jess laughed so hard she fell out of their booth at the Wexley's Diner. She sat on the scuffed linoleum for a good five minutes, hiccuping, while Rey stared stoically into Poe’s camera phone and Finn iced his shoulder with the bag of frozen peas Snap had pressed into Finn’s hands with a sigh. “It’s not a proper name, it’s a bloody gamer handle.”

“It’s not like I’m heartbroken, or anything -- ”

“I should think not!” Rey sounds sort of alarmed, which is a bit unfair. Finn dated Hux for more than a month. Heartbreak would be at least moderately justified.

“ -- but I was sort of looking forward to Valentine’s Day.” Rey makes an unimpressed noise, somewhere between a scoff and a snort. It’s unattractive and Finn hopes his raised eyebrows convey he’s equally unimpressed with her. “The firm has our big banquet and I’ve never gotten to do the obnoxious couple-y thing on a holiday. I thought it would be nice to try that. You know, like you and Jess with the dressing up for a fancy dinner, the dancing. Maybe exchanging cheesy gifts and stuff. Just. Just once.”

Rey tilts towards him, pressing their shoulders together, grounding him with her steadying presence. “Oh, Finn.”

Finn ducks his head to avoid Rey’s sympathetic gaze. Sympathetic looks from Rey are both better and worse than ones from other people. He swirls his glass, melting ice cubes clinking against the sides in discordant song. “It’s dumb.”

“Sorry I’m late, guys.” Finn turns toward the voice like a flower turning toward the sun, unable to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Had a nasty headwind on that last hop.”

Poe collapses onto the stool beside Finn, carrying with him the faint, familiar scents of damp wool, recycled air, and snow dusted earth. His dark hair is wind tousled and flecked with melting snowflakes. His winter-pale cheeks are flushed rosy thanks to a brisk jog from the airfield and the cool night breeze. The lumpy scarf Finn spent the better part of last autumn knitting is wrapped around Poe’s throat, the tasseled ends tucked into his leather jacket. He looks touchable. Cozy. Unfairly handsome. Finn’s heart squeezes uncomfortably in his chest, the way it does whenever Poe walks into a room.

“What’s dumb?” Poe -- oblivious as always to the way his entrance puts Finn’s circulatory system through its paces -- flags down the bartender with a crooked smile and a request for two Rum and Cokes.

“You don’t need to buy me a drink.” Finn’s protest is waved off. It’s tough to say no to Poe Dameron when he puts one of his warm, calloused hands on Finn’s arm, when he looks at Finn with those ridiculously big brown eyes, all earnest sweetness and damnable flyboy charm. Finn sighs. “Thanks, Poe.”

While Poe is distracted by the process of extricating himself from his jacket and scarf, Rey mimes fanning herself and makes exaggerated kissy faces. Finn punches her on the arm and her yelp garners Poe’s attention and another blinding smile. Gods, but Finn misses that smile something terrible when Poe flies out of town.

“Right.” Poe slides a handful of small, crumpled bills towards the bartender and takes a long pull from his glass. “So. I was late. Yes, Rey, I’m sorry. I know I’m terrible.” He laughs and narrowly avoids one of Rey’s thin fingers when she reaches around Finn to poke Poe in the side. “Sorry, again. And when I walked in you were saying something was dumb.”

“Finn got dumped.” Rey deftly dodges Finn’s hand, which just proves she only let him hit her before because she felt sorry for him. Because he didn’t feel pathetic enough, already. “He’s not heartbroken about Hux, but he’s sad he doesn’t get to do couple things for Valentine’s Day. And he thinks it’s dumb that he’s sad about that.” Rey returns Finn’s scowl with a dark one of her own. “It’s not dumb, Finn. You’re allowed to want things.”

Finn can feel his expression softening against his will. Sometimes Rey’s a really good friend. His best friend, most of the time. Whenever she’s not mocking his hopeless crush on his other best friend.

Then she’s the worst.

Poe frowns at Finn. “I’m sorry, buddy.” He sets his drink down and takes one of Finn’s hands in both of his. Finn’s heart stutter-stops before kicking into high gear and he prays the sudden rush of adrenaline isn’t making his hand shake. “To be honest, I never liked him.”

Rey barks a laugh, ignoring Finn’s glare. Poe gives Finn’s hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. Finn definitely does not feel bereft because that would be ridiculous. If his fingers curl inwards towards his palm in the absence of Poe’s comforting warmth that’s absolutely nobody’s business but his.

“Enough about me and my patheticness,” Finn says, distracting his longing fingers by wrapping them around his fresh drink. He savors the calming sensation of cool glass on overheated skin, lets the icy smooth surface steady him. “Tell us all about your trip. You were flying Chancellor Mothma, right?”

Finn lets the familiar, soothing patter of Poe’s adventures and Rey’s probing questions flow over him. When the night winds to a close, three or four drinks and several pleasant hours later, he doesn’t protest when Poe and Rey insist on walking him home. The snow is still falling, fat flakes glittering in the steady glow of the streetlamps. The susurration of their boots on the powder-dusted sidewalks and Poe’s low humming lulls Finn into a half-doze before they reach the entrance to his apartment building. Finn drops a kiss on each of his best friends’ cheeks before shuffling inside.

If Finn had looked back he would have seen Poe and Rey beautifully haloed by the snow and the gentle gleam of the streetlamps. He doesn’t, because he’s sleepy and content and already climbing the stairs on autopilot. Finn could look back, but he doesn’t, so he misses the blush blooming on Poe’s face and the surprised, contemplative expression on Rey’s.

  


\--

  


Finn’s been an executive assistant at Organa, Skywalker, & Solo since he moved to the city a year and a half ago. He likes the firm. The money’s decent; the work is challenging yet manageable; their offices are close enough to his apartment for him to walk or ride his bike; and Ben Solo is the most laidback non-stoner Finn has ever worked for.

“Sorry about my asshole friend,” Ben says in lieu of a greeting.

Their conversations often feel like they’re starting midway through, as if Ben was conducting both halves of the exchange in Finn’s absence. Or maybe it’s more like every exchange is a continuation of the same conversation and things have just been on hold since the last time they spoke.

“Heard about you and Hux, man.” Ben sets a cardboard coffee cup between the teetering piles of paperwork on Finn’s desk. He shifts on the balls of his feet and fixes his gaze on a spot behind Finn’s left shoulder.

“Already?” Finn asks, feeling his whole body go hot with embarrassment.

Ben nods, still standing in front of Finn’s desk. He doesn’t so much loom over Finn as tower; it’s a whole different vibe. Ben’s unfairly tall, but in the bashful, hunched-shouldered manner of a man who had a late growth spurt and never quite adjusted to being the loftiest figure in the room. His mother’s a foot shorter and easily twice as intimidating.

Finn drags his eyes away from his computer screen and looks up, and then up some more, into Ben’s long, pale face. “Did he take out an ad in the paper or something?”

Ben snorts. “Like anyone still reads the paper.” He shrugs out of his black greatcoat -- an oversized wool monstrosity that he’ll no doubt wear until it literally falls to pieces, because he’s his father’s son and never quite mastered the whole ‘wealthy’ thing -- and hangs it on the wrought iron stand by the outer office’s glass door. “He was sending bitchy text messages so I sent him a bunch of poop emojis and then set him to Do Not Disturb on my phone.”

“My boss, the mature adult.” Finn points to a short stack of manila folders perched on the corner of his desk. “Those are for you.”

“Thanks.” Ben picks up the folders and walks around Finn’s desk to open the inner office door. “Until it’s time for my lunch meeting I need you to hold any calls that aren’t from Mom or the old man. Dad should be in the air all day, but you never know.” Ben pauses in the doorway, brows furrowing in a look so reminiscent of Rey’s pinchy face that Finn barely holds back a laugh. “I suppose you can put Uncle Luke through, but I think he and Uncle Wedge are on their anniversary trip until Wednesday.”

“Tomorrow.” Finn has access to the assistants-only master calendar that allows the support staff to cultivate the useful illusion of being all-knowing. He’s pretty sure it works on everyone except Leia. Ben, at least, never questions Finn’s apparent omniscience. “Their ship’s pulling into port around ten in the morning. Weather permitting, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Ben’s brow smoothes and his mouth twists into a half smile. “And, hey, you better drink that damn coffee. Pava gave me epic amounts of shit for ordering your chocolate monstrosity, so be grateful. Minion.”

“Is this apology coffee?” Finn asks, taking a sip of his mocha. “It must be, since it tastes even sweeter than normal.” Ben rolls his eyes at Finn’s shit-eating grin. “I appreciate the gesture, but it’s not actually your fault that Hux is a jerk. He’s got free will and everything, last I checked.”

“Yeah, well. I should’ve known better than to give him your number.”

Ben leans against the door frame of the inner office and frowns. The sudden resemblance to his father is as uncanny as ever. Finn’s not quite used to the idea of functional family businesses, or functional families, for that matter. The Organa-Skywalker-Solo clan is in near constant contact,  between the firm and the charter service, and aside from Luke -- and really, Finn is more than half convinced that Rey’s adoptive father is the living incarnation of sunshine -- they’re all pretty gruff. They seem to manage okay.

“You asked me, first.” Finn had been surprised, but pleased. Ben setting Finn up with one of his friends had felt like the ultimate gesture of acceptance. A definitive ‘you are one of us, one of mine’ that made something warm and content curl in Finn’s chest.

“Yeah, but I should’ve just told him no and never mentioned it to you,” Ben says, mulishly. “I always figured he was a bit of a sleaze, but I thought he was kidding when I hired you and he made those hot secretary jokes. That shit’s not cool.”

A telltale muscle in Ben’s jaw twitches and Finn smirks. Ben Solo’s New Year’s Resolution to refrain from lecturing innocent bystanders when his temper gets the better of him is still going strong, but it’s a daily struggle. It’s been more than two months since Finn’s heard Ben deploy his ‘as affluent white men we need to be especially conscious of the place of privilege and power we hold in society’ speech on anyone who didn’t actually need to hear it.

“Well. Thanks. For the coffee.” Finn raises the cup in salute. He smiles up at Ben and the expression feels almost natural on his face, like the sadness is nearly done draining from his body. “And for caring. You’re a good boss. And a good friend. In case you were curious.”

Ben flushes furiously, because if a Solo is going to fail at anything it’s going to be acceptance of casual affection. Luke hugged Han in Finn’s line of sight, once, at one the firm’s ubiquitous holiday parties. It was about the funniest shit he’s ever seen.

“Well. I’ve got paperwork.” Ben waves his folders awkwardly and ducks into his office, shutting the door on Finn’s laughter.

  


\--

  


Finn didn’t so much fall as awkwardly stumble into love with Poe Dameron.

If Finn was a few years younger it probably would’ve been classified as a crush, but he’s a grown man. He’d like to think that a little thing like unrequited love isn’t enough to completely destroy him, anymore. And anyway, Finn’s love for Poe makes him feel less like a beetle crunched beneath the sole of somebody’s boot and more like a balloon: expanding and rising, bright and shiny and smile-inducing. One day Finn just might fall flat or he might stretch himself past his limits. He might blow apart into pieces too small for even Rey in all her mechanical genius to reassemble. That day has yet to come.

It happened on a Wednesday.

It was Finn’s third day at Organa, Skywalker, & Solo when Ben stepped into the outer office with a sheepish look on his face and too little time on his hands.

“I, um,  left my notes on Senator Atanna at Solo Charters when I brought Dad dinner, last night,” Ben said, voice low and head ducked down.

He said it like a confession. Ben’s mostly grown out of that, the persistent need to seek forgiveness, to atone for even his smallest mistakes, but this was early days. Ben was brought back into the familial fold only a few months before hiring Finn. His fisted hands -- broad palms and long fingers, scarred across the overlarge knuckles and flecked with healed-over scrapes and the telltale marks of an angry, rough and tumble boyhood -- unclenched slowly. He fiddled with his cufflinks in a gesture Finn will soon learn means Ben is about to ask for something he considers a favor.

“Okay?” Finn blinked up at his new boss, this towering stranger with his serious eyes and perpetual slouch, and wondered if he was about to be blamed for Ben’s forgetfulness. It’s the sort of thing his old boss would’ve pulled.

“I’m going to need them for my three o’clock,” Ben said, cheeks pinking, “and there’s not enough time for me to get a courier on it.”

“Oh. I…” Finn studied Ben’s face and then nodded. “I can pick them up,” Finn offered, already standing and shoving his cell phone into his front pants pocket. “Will someone at the office know which things I need?”

Ben’s face split into a broad grin that lit up his whole face and made him look years younger. “I’ll give them a call to let them know you’re coming. Dameron or Pava should be there, today. It’s just a quick walk down 15th. The office is on the righthand side, you’ll see the Solo Charters sign right before you reach B Street.”

Finn headed for Solo Charters, undoing his top few shirt buttons and loosening his tie to fend off the worst of the summer humidity. The walk was pleasant, taking him past some beautiful brick buildings and a couple of parks with sturdy old trees. Almost before he realized it he was there, staring up at a sign that read ‘Solo Charters - IF WE CAN’T GET YOU THERE, IT’S DEFINITELY ILLEGAL’ in hand painted yellow letters. The heavy door slammed behind him when he walked in. A head popped up from behind a battered desktop computer and the most gorgeous man Finn had ever seen suddenly had him pinned with an assessing glance and --

Finn forgot how to breathe for a minute, there.

“Are you Finn?” the man asked and Finn nodded. Speech was beyond him. His voice had definitively left the building and it was entirely unfair that any human could have hair that flawless or a jawline like that. And oh no, that smile. Over the next year and a half, that precise thought, ‘oh no, that smile,’ will pass through Finn’s mind no less than six times a week. “Ben called and let me know you were coming. I’ve got his notes, here.” He passed Finn a battered spiral notebook and then offered his hand to shake.

“Poe Dameron, by the way. It’s nice to meet you. Ben says you’re already a million times better than his last assistant. To be honest, I don’t know that that says a whole lot. Dopheld was kind of an asshole.” Poe’s eyes widened and he added, “But I’m sure you’re great. I mean, just looking at you I’d guess you’re at least twice as good as the last guy. I mean you look much more, um. Wow.” He laughed and ducked his head. “You’re here for work and I’m being totally inappropriate. Sorry, buddy.” Poe seemed to realize he was still holding Finn’s hand. He released his grip and ran those same fingers through his hair and Finn totally did not swoon. “Great first impression, right?”

“Not bad, actually,” Finn said, too distracted by Poe’s everything to really pay attention to the words coming out of his mouth. Finn clutched Ben’s notebook to his chest with a small, hopeful smile.

Poe smiled back.

Right then. That’s when Finn knew.

Most days being Poe’s best friend is enough. Other days that fond ‘buddy’ is a knife lovingly slipped between Finn’s ribs and it’s all he can do to breathe through the pain, sucking air through his teeth as he smiles.

  


\--

  


On Mondays Finn has lunch with Jessika Pava.

His second week on the job, Jess wandered past the glass walled outer office wearing her flight jacket and a wide grin. She’d taken one look at Finn’s harried grimace, stuck her head into Ben’s office to tell him she was kidnapping his assistant, and dragged Finn the six blocks to Wexley's Diner.

Jess says that the best cure for a bad day involves some combination of grease, chocolate, and caffeine and she knew the second she laid eyes on him that he was desperately in need of all three. Finn was clearly a man in need of Snap’s Double Chocolate Coconut Pie, a cup of coffee, and a plate of fries roughly the size of his head. No discussion necessary. Finn’s not sure why all the women in his life are tiny and terrifying -- excepting Phasma, of course, who is towering and terrifying -- but he’s largely content with being affectionately bullied at every turn.

After two months of Mondays Finn asked Jess why she’d want to hang out with him without anyone else around. He’s always considered himself to be the least interesting member of their friend group. Jess looked at him with wide, sad brown eyes. She didn’t reply, but she did have Snap bring them both mugs of hot chocolate with the little tiny marshmallows and homemade whipped cream. She moved to his side of the booth and held his free hand in hers for the rest of their meal, which Finn supposes was its own kind of answer.

Mondays mean lunch with Pava and today is no exception.

“I could put a bag of flaming dog shit on his porch,” Jess offers.

Finn splutters and almost aspirates his coffee. Jess offers him her napkin and smiles like she hadn’t specifically timed that statement for her own entertainment.

Once he can breathe again, he says, “I assume you’re referring to Hux.”

“Do you have more than one evil ex-boyfriend?” Jess asks around a mouthful of Reuben. She thumbs away a drip of Russian dressing and wipes her hands on her jeans, ignoring the dispenser full of paper napkins six inches from her plate. Finn will never understand Jessika Pava. “Because if any of the others are local the offer is transferable. I’m not messing around with the postal service, though. They have weird rules about combining incendiary devices with biohazards.”

Finn stares across the Formica tabletop and decides it’s probably best if he doesn’t know. Plausible deniability and all that.

“No other evil exes. I haven’t really dated much.” Finn takes the pickles off of his burger and puts them on the edge of Jess’s plate. “Since I told Rey last night, I assume you know I said to leave Hux alone.”

“Sure.” Jess nods, like she’d just wanted primary verification, and starts adding Finn’s pickles to her sandwich. “So who’re you going to bring to the Valentine’s Day banquet, now?”

“Um.” Finn freezes, burger halfway to his mouth. “No one?”

Jess raises unimpressed brows and takes a bite of her disgusting, pickle-infested sandwich. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

“You can’t show up by yourself,” Jess informs him. “Then that scum-sucking cellar dwellar thinks he’s winning the breakup.”

Finn sighs and sets his burger back on his plate. “It’s a breakup. Isn’t everybody losing?”

“Well, not you, because you ditched the loser, but you want to look like you’re winning, because he’s a jerk.” Jess sips daintily at her iced tea before shoving the last half of her sandwich in her mouth in one gigantic bite.

“Uh-huh. And I can’t show up to the Valentine’s banquet alone because it won’t look like I’m winning?”

“Right.” Jess nods and washes down her Reuben with the dregs of her iced tea. “Hux was on the invite list before you guys started dating and he RSVPed. He and his dad are big clients. They always show up to this stuff.”

And Finn definitely hadn’t thought of that, but it’s unfortunately accurate.

“I don’t have anybody to bring, Jess.” Finn stares down at his burger, which looks delicious, because Snap has sort of obscene grill skills, and wonders where his appetite has fled to. “So I guess I’m losing the breakup.”

“Don’t be dumb. You’re nice and smart and hot, if you’re into the whole dudes thing,” Jess allows, squirting a horrifying amount of ketchup onto her fries, “which is not my personal cup of tea, but I’m taken, anyway.”

“Thanks, Jess,” Finn says, and he means it, because Jess is brutally honest so he knows she’s speaking from her heart, but, “but where am I supposed to find a hot date for Valentine’s Day less than a week out?”

The bell curled over the diner door trills merrily and they both turn to see Poe walking in. He’s wearing his leather jacket, and the scarf Finn made for him, and he’s got his eyes trained on his smartphone.

Jess turns back to Finn with an evil grin and --

“Absolutely not. No.”

“No, no, no, it’s totally perfect.” Jess turns back towards the door and shouts, “Hey, Dameron, get your ass over here!”

Poe looks up from his phone and shoots them both a wide smile -- ‘oh no, that smile’ number three for the week, Finn’s ahead of schedule -- and waves off the hostess before walking over to their usual booth.

“I was just gonna grab something to go. I know Monday is your guys’s day,” Poe says, sliding onto the cracking vinyl bench beside Finn. “Hey, buddy, you doing okay?” he asks, voice low and mouth tight with concern.

“Yeah, Poe, I’m fine,” Finn says around the lump in his throat, grateful when their waitress interrupts to take Poe’s order. She leaves with a promise to grab everyone refills when she brings Poe’s matzah ball soup. Finn tries to kick Jess to keep her quiet once the waitress walks away, but ends up kicking the table leg instead.

Jess stomps on Finn’s loafer with more force than should really be possible for someone her size. “Finn is not fine.” Poe turns betrayed eyes on Finn, who sighs and then glares at Jess. “Don’t give me that look, dude. You know I’m right. He needs a date.”

Poe raises surprised brows. “Isn’t it a little soon for that?”

“She just means for the banquet,” Finn explains. “Because Hux will be there.”

“Oh, Finn.” Poe gives Finn’s closer hand a comforting squeeze and something sharp and familiar seizes up in his chest. “I’m sure Leia will understand if you don’t want to go.”

“No, no, it’s cool. We’ve got this. Finn’s going to go,” Jess insists, eyes darting between Finn and Poe like she’s already mentally measuring them for new formalwear. “I’ve got a plan.”

Finn groans and drops his head to the table.

  


\--

  


They’ve been at the tailor shop for over an hour and Rey only looks slightly murderous, so that’s something.

“All men’s clothes have looked the same for a hundred years.” Rey is pacing back and forth while Finn stands on a small, raised platform and tries to be very still so he won’t get stabbed. “I don’t understand how this could possibly be necessary.”

“This has been a trying experience for you,” Phasma drawls, “so I’m choosing to take the fact that you find my entire profession archaic and irrelevant as a sign of boredom and poor breeding and not as a reflection of my obvious skill.” Her accent always goes a bit plummy in Rey’s presence, like the barely audible hint of ‘working class’ in the younger woman’s voice is enough to bring back a childhood of elocution lessons.

Rey snorts and drops onto one of the velvet couches. “Feel free. Are you almost done, then?”

Phasma narrows her blue eyes, stepping away from the platform with a considering tilt of her head. Finn does his best impression of a statue while she circles, studying his clothes. Eventually she nods, one golden curl escaping from her chignon to tickle her cheek. Phasma tucks the stray hair behind one ear with a little sigh, but her full mouth is tipped slightly up at the corners. It would be a toothy grin on anyone else.

“You really do have the perfect figure for a three piece suit,” Phasma says, smoothing Finn’s lapels with a look of approval that makes his face go hot. “Run along and change back into your own things, but mind the pins. It’ll be ready in plenty of time for the banquet.”

Finn half-listens to Phasma and Rey’s conversation while changing back into his work slacks and cotton buttondown.

“No, I’m attending,” Phasma says, voice tilted towards amused. “I’ve always had trouble turning down an invitation from Leia Organa.”

“Aunt Leia’s like that.”

“Indeed. And, at any rate, it’s good for business.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s the only reason you come to these things,” Rey replies, and Finn catches the tail end of her smirk when he emerges from behind the dressing screen. “Hey, Finn, is Ben bringing anybody?”

“I, uh, not that I know of?” Finn sits on the edge of the platform to retie his shoes. Phasma’s face is stony, but that’s not entirely unusual. Rey’s expression is nothing short of gleeful, which is always a terrible sign. “There was nothing about it in his calendar and he didn’t mention a date. I don’t think he’s brought a date to one of the company events since I moved here.”

Rey turns towards Phasma, hands tucked into the pockets of her oil-smudged coveralls, “Well, isn’t that -- ”

“Would you look at the time,” Phasma interrupts, tone flat. “Finn, I’ll have your suit and Mr. Solo’s new waistcoat delivered to the office no later than Friday morning, if that’s acceptable?”

“Oh, I, sure?” Finn looks between Rey, who looks like the cat who ate the canary, and Phasma, who looks like she’d be perfectly content if the floor opened up and swallowed her whole. “Should I settle up the bill, now, or -- ”

Phasma waves him off, expression softening. “Everything’s already been paid in advance.”

“Oh, was it Leia, because -- ”

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss billing,” Phasma replies, and hey, that’s definitely a smile. Finn has the distinct impression that something is afoot. “Suffice it to say everything has been paid for and you’ve nothing to worry about. Now, out of my shop. I never should’ve let this grease monkey,” she waves a dismissive hand towards Rey, who merely smiles, “in here in the first place.”

“So,” Finn says, following Rey out of Phasma’s Fine Tailors, “I’m pretty sure I’m unaware of, like, multiple things that were happening back there.”

Rey shrugs, checking her watch before turning toward Wexley's Diner. “I’m starving. You hungry, yet? Standing there looked exhausting, I bet you’re hungry.”

“I’m going to get it out of you, eventually,” Finn says, elbowing her in the side.

Rey flashes him a sharp smile. “Of course you won’t.”

“Of course I won’t,” Finn agrees.

“You trust me, right?” Rey asks, pausing with one hand on the diner door.

“With my life,” Finn answers, because it’s true.

Rey grabs his hand and squeezes tight. “So trust me,” she says, thin fingers twined with his, “when I say I know what I’m doing and everyone is going to have a great Valentine’s Day.”

“I can do that.”

Finn squeezes back and follows Rey into the diner. He’s greeted by the familiar sound of the bell over the door, by the scents of frying food and citrus-scented cleaning products, by Snap waving absently from the kitchen window, and he wonders when exactly the city started to feel like home. He’s never had a home before. There’ve been places he’s lived and people he liked well enough, but it’s never felt like he just belonged to people, to a place, in quite this way.

It’s a pretty nice feeling, really.

  


\--

  


By a quirk of fate -- or possibly by Rey and Jess’s combined machinations, Finn wouldn’t put it past them -- Finn and Poe’s schedules are diametrically opposed from the advent of ‘the plan’ until Valentine’s Day. Finn gets pulled into a project with Luke’s executive and administrative assistants that has him stuck at the office late every weeknight and Poe has a charter that leaves Friday and doesn’t return until Sunday morning.

It’s probably a good thing that they’re both busy or Finn would’ve spent the whole run up to the banquet worrying. Sunday night he’s sending reluctant thanks out into the universe and cursing Phasma for her obsession with bow ties when there’s a quick triple-tap on his door.

“Hey, Finn,” Poe’s already speaking when Finn pulls the door open, “one of your neighbor’s was coming in so I just, I.” Poe blinks, mouth still hanging open. He shuts his mouth and clears his throat. “I, um, didn’t bother with the intercom. That’s a, wow. Phasma did a great job with your suit.”

“She’s kind of a genius.” Finn looks down at his suit, which did seem like it fit pretty well when he was putting it on, earlier. “You don’t think the purple is too. I don’t know, too something?”

“I think the purple is the exact right amount of something,” Poe says, leaning against the door frame with a crooked smile that warms Finn all the way down to his toes. “You -- It looks amazing.”

Finn would return the compliment, but all he can see of it underneath Poe’s black dress coat is the slacks. They fit him beautifully, like all of his clothes, and Finn very determinedly does not think about the way the fabric hugs every last one of Poe’s delectable curves and defined muscles. He doesn’t.

“Next to you I’m gonna look like chopped liver, but I think you’ll look like you’re winning the breakup, regardless,” Poe adds.

Finn’s heart drops into his stomach. For a minute, there, he’d been able to pretend that this was a real date, that Poe was actually coming to pick him up and whisk him away for a romantic night on the town. He has to remember that it’s not, though, that Poe’s a friend who’s doing him a favor. It’s not easy, but Finn nods and keeps a smile fixed on his face. “Yeah, Jess’s plans usually work.” He looks down at the tie in his hands and back up at Poe. “I’ll be ready in a second. I just need to figure out exactly how the whole bow tie thing works.”

“I can tie it for you,” Poe offers, stepping over the threshold and into Finn’s dimly lit front hall.

“Oh, really? That’d be great, thanks.” Finn passes Poe the tie.

Their fingers brush and wow, Finn really didn’t think this through because now Poe’s stepping close and they’re practically breathing each other’s air. Poe’s smile is fleeting, soon replaced with the look of concentration he usually reserves for flying or, very occasionally, hustling pool. Poe flips up Finn’s collar and slides the black black silk around his throat.

“Let me know if, um,” Poe’s gaze flits from Finn’s throat to his wide eyes and back, “if it’s too tight, okay?”

Finn nods, just a little, and the calloused pads of Poe’s fingers brush against the sensitive skin below his Adam’s apple. It takes every last ounce of his self control not to shiver, but he does close his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch Poe and his steady hands deftly fastening the tie around Finn’s neck.

Poe clears his throat and Finn’s eyes fly open. “I think that’s good. Too tight?” Finn shakes his head and Poe’s hands trail from the bow tie to the shoulders of Finn’s suit, where he squeezes gently. “Good. That...that looks real good, Finn.”

“Thanks,” Finn says, voice rough and oh, his face is so hot Poe can probably feel it. “Let me just grab my coat,” he takes a step back and turns, breathing deep to calm his nerves, “and we can head out.” He snags his coat from the hall closet and buttons it with only slightly shaking fingers. When Finn turns back Poe is staring at the ground, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. “Ready?”

Poe jumps and looks up. “Yeah.” He nods towards the door. “Sorry, we can head out. Just lost in my head for a second. Leia sent a car for us. It’s waiting downstairs.”

“Oh. That was nice of her.” Finn follows Poe out into the hall, pausing to lock the door and tuck his keys away.

“Yep!” Poe’s voice sounds kind of weird, and when Finn turns to look at him his face is fixed in a stiff approximation of his usual carefree grin.

“Hey, Poe,” Finn rests a hand on Poe’s wrist, “you can call this off, still. It’s a lot to ask and you know Jess, sometimes these things just pop into her head without her actually wondering if it’ll make anyone uncomfortable.”

“I’m totally comfortable!” Poe insists, but his voice cracks and there are spots of red high on his cheeks.

“Yeah, Poe,” Finn says, flatly. “You are the picture of comfort right now. Look, it’s fine, nobody’s gonna mind if I don’t show up -- ”

“What are you talking about? Of course people will mind! We all like spending time with you!” And now Poe looks less uncomfortable and more indignant. He twists his wrist from Finn’s grip and laces their fingers together, using their joined hands to drag Finn toward the stairs. “We are doing this, Finn.” Poe says it in the determined tone usually reserved for Jess and Snap’s ‘double dog dare’s, the ones that usually result in someone getting very drunk or semi-grievously injured. “We are doing this and we are going to have a great time.”

And hey, who is Finn to argue with that?

  


\--

  


“Phasma, you did a wonderful job on this suit,” Leia Organa says, patting Finn on the arm with a wide smile.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Phasma replies, and Finn thinks she might be blushing, just a bit.

Poe and Finn hadn’t spotted Hux in the crowded ballroom, so they’d agree to make the rounds until one of them ran into him and they needed to, in Jess’s immortal words, ‘boyfriend it up.’ Finn can see Poe on the far side of the dance floor with Han, Jess, Rey, and a few lanky men in ill-fitting suits and military haircuts. They’re talking animatedly, Rey and Poe’s hands flying as they relay their story, and Finn can’t help smiling.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you young people,” Leia says, and Finn manages to drag his eyes away from Poe. Leia’s smirking at him, brown eyes crinkling at the corners and he has the distinct impression he’s being laughed at. “You’ve certainly got better things to do than listen to the ramblings of an old woman.”

Finn and Phasma both murmur protests, but Leia’s already slipped away, patting her son -- who’s nodding seriously at something Wedge and Biggs are telling him -- on the shoulder as she makes her way around the crowded dance floor.

“That is so much awesome packed into such a tiny person,” Finn says, admiringly, as Leia disappears into the crowd.

“Indeed,” Phasma replies, sipping at her champagne in a way that doesn’t quite hide her smile.

“I’m not sure how she managed to give birth to my giant nerd of a boss,” Finn adds, nodding at Ben, who nearly knocks over a passing waiter with a broad gesture.

“He’s a disaster,” Phasma says, not unkindly. Her eyes rake over Ben in a frankly assessing manner. “He could, perhaps, be in need of a guiding hand. Sartorially, I mean.”

“Yeah, probably wouldn’t be amiss,” Finn agrees. “Last week he came into the office and he was wearing brown shoes and a black greatcoat with his pinstriped navy suit.”

Phasma’s left eye twitches and Finn has to turn his head away so she won’t see him smiling. Aw. So this was what that exchange in the tailor shop had been about. He would never have called it.

“You should ask him to dance,” Finn says, and Phasma is so startled she nearly drops her champagne flute. “No, seriously.” Finn takes the flute from her hand and nods at Ben. “Ben will be so busy trying not to step on your feet he’ll agree to anything you say. Including a new spring wardrobe.”

Phasma’s blue eyes narrow, like she’s trying to decide if Finn is working some sort of angle, but she nods. Finn watches as she marches up to Ben, tapping him on the shoulder. Ben turns, eyes wide as he takes in all 75 silver-clad inches of terrifying blonde bombshell, and nods along as she speaks. Finn muffles a laugh when Phasma drags his boss onto the dance floor, leading him into a decent approximation of a box step without either of them stomping on anyone’s feet.

“Drinking alone, I see.”

Finn freezes, fingers going rigid around the stem of Phasma’s champagne flute.

“Hux.” Finn turns and there’s his ex, wearing a black on black tuxedo, with ‘so much product in his hair it wouldn’t budge in a sandstorm.’ “Just holding this for a friend while she hit the dance floor.”

“I’m sure,” Hux says, lips curling into a sour smile. “How have you been?”

“In the week since you told me I was a low-class nobody you couldn’t possibly be with long term?” Finn deposits Phasma’s glass on the tray of a passing waiter and crosses his arms over his chest. “Just fantastic, man. And yourself?”

Finn can see Hux preparing his next volley and braces himself. But then a warm hand is sliding across the back of his jacket and settling against his hip, a strong, familiar arm wrapping around him.

“Hux. I didn’t know you were coming to this little shindig.” Poe turns his head, giving Finn one of his brightest smiles, fingers pressing comfortingly against the cut of Finn’s hip. “Did you know he was coming?”

Finn shakes his head and leans into Poe’s embrace.

“Huh. Well, what a crazy random happenstance.” Hux’s face twists into a frown, watery blue eyes flicking between Poe and Finn. “Finn, babe, I promised you this dance.” Poe releases his grip on Finn’s hip and shifts until he’s holding Finn’s hand, fingers twined and gripping tight. “You’ll excuse us, won’t you, Hux? We low-class nobodies would hate to take up too much of your time.”

Finn waves jauntily at Hux, whose pale face is flushed with anger, and lets Poe lead him onto the packed dance floor.

“That,” Finn says, resting his hands on Poe’s waist as they start swaying to the music, “was totally amazing.”

“I can’t believe that asshole said that to you!” Poe says, fingers spasming where they’re settled against Finn’s upper back, brushing against the nape of his neck.

“You can’t?” Finn frowns. “‘Cause Hux really is kind of a jerk, I wasn’t that surprised. And, I mean, I’m an orphan. Who knows who my parents were? I guess that technically -- ”

“Technically you are the most amazing man I know,” Poe says, eyes bright and jaw tight. “You’re smart and kind and everything you have you worked for yourself. You didn’t have it handed to you like that, that -- ”

“Asshole?” Finn offers.

“Yes!” Poe nods, shifting closer to Finn as the dancers press tighter around them. “You always seem half convinced that you don’t deserve people in your life who love you because you’re you and you do. You’re wonderful, Finn. That breaks my heart.”

“Poe.” Finn’s fingers flex against Poe’s waist, slipping down to Poe’s swaying hips. Something too much like hope is rising in his throat, getting lodged in his mouth. The  _ I love you _ that’s forever lingering on Finn’s traitorous tongue threatens to escape, clicks against the back of his teeth. “I --  _ Poe _ .”

Poe’s brown eyes search Finn’s for a long moment. Their swaying slows to a stop, an eddy in the swirling currents of the dance floor, a deceptive eye at the heart of the storm. “Finn, you deserve to be loved. To have somebody who thinks you’re as amazing as you actually are.”

“I do, huh?”

“You deserve a lot better than some old flyboy who can’t string more than a handful of words together, that’s for sure.” Poe’s fingers are shaking when the slide from Finn’s shoulders to gently curl around Finn’s jaw. “Right,” Poe mutters, nodding like he’s made a decision. “Fuck it.”

And then Poe kissed Finn.

Finn was so shocked for a moment that he froze, his brain utterly failing to compute what was happening. He could feel Poe’s rough, familiar fingers sliding along his jaw, tilting Finn’s head until the angle was perfect. He could feel Poe’s chest moving in a rapid rise and fall against his own and Poe was making these little noises in the back of his throat and that was what finally snapped Finn out of his fugue state, got him responding to Poe’s touch, got him to kiss back.

Finn lifted one of his hands from Poe’s hip and buried it in Poe’s hair -- fuck, but Finn has had a truly absurd number of dreams about burying his hands in that hair, it’s just as thick and soft as he imagined -- and shifts so one of Poe’s strong thighs is sandwiched between Finn’s and their whole fronts are pressing snugly together. Poe’s reaction is instantaneous and mind melting. He shivers and gasps wetly against Finn’s lips. Finn uses that obvious opening to slip his tongue into Poe’s hot, welcoming mouth.

Damn, but Finn’s never felt so greedy in his life. He’s got one hand buried in Poe’s hair and is wrapping the other around Poe’s waist to pull them as close together as possible. Poe is making these delicious noises and just devouring Finn’s mouth and Finn is lightheaded and sort of feels like he might spontaneously combust. Someone’s elbow bumps into Finn’s side and he pulls away from Poe, heart pounding frantically, suddenly very aware of precisely where they’re standing. Poe’s still making those hot, low sounds in the back of his throat, his beautiful, trembling hands cupping the sides of Finn’s face like Finn is something precious and breakable.

Finn wants Poe to touch him like that everywhere and never stop.

Finn never knew just kissing could be this amazing, but he probably should’ve realized it would be different kissing someone he’s in love with rather than just people he finds attractive or that he likes. Kissing Poe feels...right. It feels right and inexorable and like they need to be doing it every day for the rest of their lives and then Finn remembers --

“I need you to tell me that wasn’t just because Hux was watching,” Finn says. “Because if that’s all it was -- ”

Poe drags Finn’s mouth back to his, silencing him with lips and tongue and a quick nip of teeth before drawing back. “I don’t care who was watching,” Poe says. “I’ve wanted to do that since that first day you walked into the office with your collar undone and your tie all pulled loose. You had a bead of sweat,” Poe points to the hollow of Finn’s throat, “right there and it took every ounce of my, not inconsiderable, willpower not to lick it without bothering to introduce myself.”

“Oh,” Finn says, eyes wide.

“Oh,” Poe agrees, nodding. “And then I got to know you and you were...you should have a poet, not a pilot. You're just as gorgeous inside as you are out and I was just gone. I figured I never had a chance with you, after that first month I spent flirting shamelessly and you were just politely disinterested--”

“We are remembering that very differently,” Finn says, pressing another kiss to Poe’s mouth because he just can't help himself. “Because I thought you were just flirty with everyone and I was settling for being your friend. Not settling, like in a bad way! Don't get me wrong, being your friend is amazing, but sometimes it also made me feel like I was dying because I couldn't be with you.”

Poe makes a high, needy noise, fingers slipping down from Finn’s face to his shoulders, sliding on the slick purple fabric. “In case I hadn't made myself clear, I love you, and not on a platonic, best friends kind of way. Well, yes in a best friends way, because you're my best friend, but also I'm really stupidly in love with you.”

“I  _ told _ you!” Jess says, waltzing by with Rey on her arm. “Congratulations, you assholes just won me enough money off of Snap and Han that I'm treating Finn for at least the next two Monday's.”

“She really is happy for you,” Rey adds, smile brilliant, as she steers Jess back into the crowd.

Finn and Poe stare at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Come on.” Poe takes Finn by the hand and leads him off of the dance floor, waving to a smirking Leia as they wend their way to the coat room. He passes their tickets over, still holding Finn’s hand. When the coat checker hands Poe both of their coats, Poe insists on helping Finn into his first, doing up the buttons while his cheeks flush. He looks up at Finn through his eyelashes, mouth dropping open to speak when Finn realizes --

“I love you, too!” Finn blurts, those words finally dripping off his tongue. He’s floating, he’s flying bright and shiny and smile inducing and Poe’s hands clutch at the lapels of Finn’s coat. “I just realized, Jess interrupted and I hadn’t -- I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you. And decidedly not in a platonic, best friends kind of way.”

Poe forces his hands to unclench from the fabric of Finn’s coat and scrambles into his own. He grabs Finn’s hand again and starts dragging him towards the exit.

“Right,” Poe says, looking over his shoulder at Finn. “So does this count as a first date, or?”

“Poe,” Finn says, stepping out the front doors and into the glittering snowfall with his heart light in his chest and the feeling of infinite possibility in the air. “I love you. You love me. Take me home.”

Poe nods, smile blinding. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go home.”

It's Valentine's Day and Finn is off the market. For good.

**Author's Note:**

> 'crazy random happenstance' is lovingly stolen from Dr. Horrible.
> 
> The last two weeks IRL were the pits so I decided to write a Valentine's Day fic to cheer myself up. It mostly worked, though it's a bit less fluffy than I'd intended.


End file.
